


Morning Destinies

by octothorpetopus



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Bisexual Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Episode: s01e05 Bottled Appetites, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Uses His Words, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Communicating, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, M/M, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Post-Episode: s01e05 Bottled Appetites, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22853338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octothorpetopus/pseuds/octothorpetopus
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier get along. Well, they bicker like an old married couple, and there have been several near-fistfights, but they get along as well as a witcher and a bard can. But there are certain things, like stepping in between Geralt and a target, that threaten that careful balance, although not for the reasons one might think...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 373





	Morning Destinies

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve watched the series twice and I’m legit obsessed with the dynamic these two have, so I thought I’d try my hand at writing them! Comments and feedback are always read and very much appreciated, so if you liked it, let me know! Thanks for reading! -C.

Under a stifling layer of clouds, which had opened up to pour freezing rain into the road, two men and a horse marched out of town, already splattered with mud from the soaked path. Geralt patted the horse's flank.

"Almost there, Roach." He slicked his hair out of his face, leaving a streak of mud above his left eye. "Come on, Jaskier."

"Yep! Coming!" Jaskier had to jog to keep up with Geralt's long strides. He hummed a tune quietly to himself, his fingers moving as if playing an invisible lute. Geralt kept his eyes fixed firmly on the road before him, pretending he couldn't hear. It was catchy, he'd give Jaskier that. And his voice was actually quite pleasant to listen to. It was just that Geralt enjoyed taking the bard down a peg or two. Just to keep them even. "So, what are we killing today?" Geralt struggled to keep from rolling his eyes.

 _"I'm_ killing a warg. _You_ are staying with the horse."

"Hmph." Jaskier shook his head in a futile attempt to shake the water out of his hair. "Couldn't we have waited until it stopped raining? That inn had a number of nice, warm beds upstairs just waiting for us, but instead, we're out here in the rain."

"You could have stayed. I told you not to come."

"Well, what else was I going to do?" Geralt briefly considered making a run for it and abandoning Jaskier in the middle of the muddy road, then decided against it. Instead, he stopped, looking down at the ground in front of him.

"We're close." He pointed a massive finger at what looked like a large wolf paw print. "That way." Without waiting for Jaskier, he tugged on Roach's reins and turned into the woods. He heard the sound of boots squelching, and didn’t even have to look to know Jaskier had fallen in step beside him. He did give one sidelong glance, still. Jaskier had his arms wrapped around himself and was shivering with a vengeance. Sighing, Geralt unclasped his own cloak and draped it over Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier nearly collapsed under the weight of the heavy wool, and he had to hold the end to keep it from dragging behind him, but he stopped shivering.

”Won’t you get cold now?”

”I’m a witcher. Witchers don’t get cold.” That wasn’t true, but Jaskier would have given the cloak back if he thought that Geralt would be cold without it, which he was, a little. The trees created a thick canopy of dark green leaves above them, which sheltered them from the rain, but also blocked out any sun that might have broken through the clouds. 

”So, what’s a warg den look like?” Geralt held up a fist and pointed.

”Like that.” It wasn’t dissimilar to a rabbit’s den, like a small cave in a shallow hillside, only it was much, much bigger, and surrounded by more of those huge wolf-prints. ”Fuck.”

”What?”

”The villagers told me there was only one, but there’s got to be half a dozen. At least.”

”Really? Where are th-“ Geralt was so distracted by Jaskier’s admittedly stupid questions that he didn’t see the warg rocketing towards him until it slammed into his side, taking him off guard and knocking him onto his back. He’d never wrestled a warg before, and as unpleasant as it sounded, it was even worse in reality.

”Jaskier!” He roared, the warg’s snapping jaws mere inches from his face. “Take Roach and get the hell out of here!”

”Yep! Right!” Geralt turned his attention back to the warg. With a significant amount of effort, he threw it off of him, and watched as it slammed into another. More wargs were leaving their den, and by the time the last one appeared, there were ten. Geralt pulled his sword off his back and prepared for battle. But the wargs didn't move, they just watched him with narrow black eyes. Geralt tipped his head, almost an invitation, and they rushed forward from all sides. Geralt's sword was nothing more than a flash of silver as it whirled around him, decapitating one of the giant wolf creatures and slashing another across the stomach. He was on pure autopilot- killing these creatures came more easily than talking or breathing for him. He tore through the wargs one, two, even three at a time, until all that was left was a pile of warg carcasses, only one still alive by the entrance to the den. Geralt paced towards it, raising his sword over his shoulder to deliver one last killing blow. His vision clouded with adrenaline, it was no wonder he didn't see the flash of maroon silk until it was already in front of him. If Geralt hadn't been a witcher, he wouldn't have been able to stop himself, but he was, and he did. His sword stopped less than an inch from Jaskier's throat. Jaskier's blue eyes were so wide that Geralt caught his own reflection in them. His face was splattered with mud and warg guts. His gold eyes were wide and wild and filled with bloodlust.

"Jaskier-" His throat caught, and he struggled to get the words out over the heavy rise and fall of his chest. "Jaskier, what... the _hell_... are you doing?" Jaskier, his hands still raised to hold off Geralt, sidestepped, some of the tension in his face dissipating with the distance between his throat and Geralt's sword.

"Geralt. please." Geralt followed Jaskier's eyeline to the final warg. "It's just a baby." Now that his tunnel vision had widened again, he could see that Jaskier was right. This warg was only the size of a large dog, and its eyes were genuinely and legitimately terrified.

"It's still a baby that's going to grow up and terrorize this village. Just like its family." Geralt swung his sword back once again, and this time, Jaskier grabbed him by the arm.

"Wait! Please! Just... chase it off. But don't kill it."

"One of three things is going to happen right now, Jaskier." Geralt hefted his sword onto his shoulder and ticked them off on his free hand. "One: I kill it, and no one in this village or any nearby have to worry about being attacked again in a year. Two: I don't kill it, I chase it away, and it dies because wargs are pack animals and it can't survive on its own. Three: I don't kill it. It lives out in the woods, isolated, and in a year or two, it comes back and attacks the village again, or some other village. And then someone like me has to come in and kill it. So no matter what, it dies. The only question is-" Geralt narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw. "-do I give it a merciful and quick death now, or do I subject it to a life of isolation until it either starves or gets killed?" Jaskier's chin fell to his chest.

"Please," he repeated. "Give it a chance." He managed a smile. "Besides, if it does grow up and decide to come back, then you get paid again." Geralt couldn't smile back.

"Fine. I'm not going to go through you just to kill a glorified wolf pup." He sheathed his sword, sent Jaskier a brief glance, considering, and turned on his heel, rain coursing down his back. He wrapped Roach's reigns around his leather-clad fist, and started back on the road towards the village without bothering to make sure Jaskier was behind him. Usually, he was sure Jaskier would fall in step, but this time, he wasn't so sure.

He did. Against all odds, Jaskier followed Geralt back to the inn. He hovered at Geralt's shoulder while he got paid, and sat across from him at the table. They drank ale in silence for awhile before Geralt finally spoke up.

"Jaskier, what are you doing?"

"What do you mean? I'm having a drink, scoping out the locals-"

"Jaskier." Geralt sighed. "You could've died."

"Yes? And? I've almost died a lot, Geralt, that's sort of the side effect of being your best friend-"

"Jaskier!" The only word Geralt seemed to be able to force from his mouth was Jaskier's name.

"What? What, Geralt? Yes, I could've died, but that wouldn't be the first time I've been rather close to death. In fact, it's been a week since a djinn almost killed me. But you've gotten me out of it every time, haven't you? So I'll keep buying the ale, and you just keep saving my life." Geralt slammed his tankard down on the table, splattering ale.

"Damn it!" He roared, drawing the attention of most of the inn, although they were easily silenced with a laser-focused glare. "Jaskier, it's not just that you were going to died- not that you might have died, you were _going_ to- but this time, you would..." The words didn't come easily, but Geralt forced them out with more effort than the entire fight with the wargs had taken him. "You would have died by my sword, Jaskier. And that- I couldn't-" There were no more words. Nothing else he could say. Jaskier looked up at him from under thick lashes, and appeared to consider briefly.

"Geralt, you express a desire to kill me on a daily basis."

"Maybe. Maybe I do." Geralt swallowed the last of his ale in one go and stood, awkwardly straightening his back. "I'm going for a walk."

"A walk? Geralt, it's nearly midnight, and pouring rain outside!" Geralt-" The inn door slammed behind Geralt, cutting Jaskier off. He tossed his head back, letting the rain wash away all of his discomfort, dirt and shame and blood all mixed together and flowing away. The roads of the village were lit by lanterns that created a gentle golden glow around Geralt, although he paid no mind. His shirt was soaked through in five minutes, but all he had wanted for weeks was one minute to gather his thoughts, which were a whirlwind inside his head. He found himself outside a shop- it was closed this late- but it was quiet. He leaned against one of the walls, pushing his hair out of his face and turning his face up towards the sky.

"Geralt." His golden eyes snapped open.

"Since we've met, it seems you've developed an affinity for following me when I very clearly don't want you to." Jaskier chuckled, but it was laced with nerves. Geralt understood that. "I'm too tired to pretend I didn't mean what I said. So whatever you're going to say... say it."

"I don't have anything to say." Geralt pushed himself away from the wall and stared Jaskier down.

"Then why did you follow me?" Jaskier shrugged.

"I thought you might."

"What would I have to say?"

"I don't know."

”I left because I thought I might find some peace and quiet out here. But you seem to want to make that impossible.” Geralt pushed past Jaskier and stormed off in the direction of the inn. He didn’t look back to see if Jaskier was following him. Usually, he just sort of... expected the bard to be right behind him, ready with a song or his cracking wit. This time, Geralt wasn’t sure he was there. And frankly, he wasn’t sure he wanted him to be.

”Geralt!” Damn it. “Geralt, would you slow down? You know I can’t keep up with you when you walk fast!” Geralt walked faster. if he responded, that would only encourage Jaskier. Maybe if he walked fast enough, he could lose the bard in the winding streets. But he didn't, and Jaskier caught up to him right as he reentered the inn.

"Why do you insist on bothering me at all times? Was I not clear when I asked to be left alone?" Geralt hissed, turning on his heel so that Jaskier nearly skidded to a stop to avoid crashing into him.

"You say you want to be left alone," called Jaskier as he followed Geralt up the steps in the back of the inn, the ones that led from the tavern on the lower floor to the rooms for rent above. "You say that, but I don't believe it. I've never believed it. You need people, Geralt, you always have, but as soon as they start to get you, you wriggle out of reach. I can't tell if you just don't want anyone to know you, or if you're afraid, or if you really don't believe anyone could, but _I know you, Geralt!"_ For the first time that evening, Jaskier raised his voice. Geralt hesitated at the top of the steps, stopped in his tracks. "I know you, whether you want me to or not! I have seen the very best and the very worst of you. I have seen you fail and I have seen you succeed beyond your wildest dreams. I have seen you, Geralt of Rivia, and you cannot ever take that back." They were standing in the narrow hallway now, the sounds of the tavern below muffled through the wooden floor. Jaskier shrugged helplessly. "I can't say anything more."

Geralt couldn't think of anything to say. Geralt had nothing left to say.

"Hmm."

"Don't 'hmm' me right now. Have you really nothing to-" That was it. Something, some kind of barricade that had built up in Geralt a long, long time ago, snapped, and everything it had been holding back, everything familiar and everything unrecognizable, flooded into his system, overtaking it until it seemed he was no longer in control of his own actions.

But he was in control. He was very much in control, maybe more so than he had been in a long time. And so he was in control when he crossed the narrow hall, took Jaskier's face in his large hands, and kissed him. He kissed Jaskier as a fiddle played beneath the creaky floorboards and rain poured down on the thatched roof. Geralt felt Jaskier's warm hands cover his own, and winced as he felt Jaskier's back slam into the wall. He broke the kiss after what felt like hours, his chest heaving. The air around his shoulders was far lighter than it had ever been, at least within memory, and he teetered ever so slightly, feeling drunk and dizzy and dazed. Jaskier stared up at him in wide-eyed wonder, his hands still holding Geralt's on either side of his face. But then he seemed to blink the wonder out of his eyes, and reality set back in.

"Geralt," he said, his voice constricted and measured. "What about Yennefer?" Geralt didn't know how to respond. He shook his head slightly, a smile forming on the edge of his lips.

"I don't really want to talk about Yennefer right now."

"Aren't you and she... you know, together?" Geralt let out a soft snort of laughter.

"No."

"But I thought- In Rinde-"

"Jaskier." With more tenderness than he had felt in the last several decades, Geralt slipped his hand out from under Jaskier's and placed it gently back on top, lacing their fingers together. "Do you trust me?"

"I do. Of course I do."

"Then believe me. If I wanted to be with Yennefer, I’d be with her right now. I’m with you, Jaskier. I’m here.”

”You know, I don’t know if that was more or less romantic than you meant it to be.”

”Jaskier?”

”Yes?”

”Shut up.” And with that, Geralt leaned into another kiss.

Later that night- or maybe early the next morning, it was hard to tell- after they had stumbled into bed, Geralt lay awake. He had watched Jaskier fall asleep, watched his beautiful blue eyes flutter shut. The sun would be up soon, and then they'd have to face the world and all its eccentricities, but for the time being, it was still dark enough to qualify as nighttime. They were so close now, so close Geralt could feel Jaskier's shallow breaths ruffle his hair, which fell loose around his face, pulled from its bindings at some point during the night's endeavors. He had one hand resting gently atop Jaskier's bare ribs, and the other was slowly beginning to go numb trapped under Jaskier's hip. But he didn't dare move and wake the bard from his slumber. So he let his hand fall asleep, and waited patiently for the inevitable dawn.

Dawn came only an hour or two later, and as the pale sunlight of early morning streamed in through the window, spilling into a pool of brightness onto the bed, Jaskier blinked awake. His hair was a mess, sticking up in spikes at all angles. His eyes, hazy and unfocused, finally fixed on Geralt, and he smiled, a sleepy half-yawning grin.

"You didn't sleep."

"Witchers don't sleep."

"You know, I feel like you're lying about the characteristics of witchers, but I don't actually know enough to tell."

"That's my secret." Jaskier's eyes flicked up to the bright sun coming through the window.

"Morning already?" Geralt mustered half a smile.

"Morning came too soon today."

"Yeah, I would have pegged you as more of a nighttime guy." Geralt, still absentmindedly rubbing a thumb over Jaskier's side, chuckled softly and stared up at the day beginning outside. The rain had cleared. The sky showed no signs of ever having been covered in clouds. If he hadn't seen it last night, he would have been sure that it had never rained.

"I'm not. Not really."

"Really?"

"At night, it's almost always just me." Jaskier reached up to brush a lock of white hair off Geralt's forehead, and Geralt couldn't help but smile. "Me and my thoughts. But in the morning, I get up and I go about life, and I put everything aside until I go to bed again, and the cycle repeats itself. I've spent what seems like a dozen lifetimes waiting for the sun to come up. And now, I can't help but wish it would just go back down."

"Morning doesn't have to change anything, Geralt. It's just like nighttime, only the sun's up."

"Morning changes everything. Always does. Not always for the better. Not always for the worse. But there's always change."

"So." Jaskier looked pensive. "What does that mean now?"

"I don't know. I think it means... we get up." Jaskier nodded, but he didn't look done. Still, he sat up, giving Geralt's hand, which was now fully numb, some relief.

"I, uh- I can't quite recall where my clothes went."

"I think they're sort of... everywhere." Geralt looked around the room for the first time. Articles of both of their clothing were mixed together and tossed in every corner. Jaskier pulled the top sheet off the bed, wrapping it around his midsection. “Jaskier. I did see you naked last night.”

”Yes, but morning changes things, doesn’t it?” Jaskier cocked an eyebrow, a sudden edge overtaking his usually amused tone.

”That’s not what I- Just wait a minute, would you?” Geralt groaned, running his hands through his hair. Was he usually this bad at talking to people? He hoped not. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

”No? Then how did you mean it, Geralt?” Jaskier asked as he began to pull his pants back on. 

”I only meant... do you believe in destiny, Jaskier?” Jaskier has his back turned to Geralt, but turned around just long enough to fix Geralt with a highly skeptical look.

”That’s a very odd question to ask, witcher.” Geralt winced. Jaskier only called him “witcher” when he was upset, which wasn’t often.

”And that’s not an answer, bard.” Jaskier only raised his eyebrows again. Sighing, Geralt waved a hand, beckoning Jaskier, who eventually gave in and sat back down on the edge of the bed.

”I suppose... I don’t believe there’s anything written in the stars for me, that sort of destiny. I don’t think I’m big enough in this world for that. And I don’t think I have any great fate awaiting me either. I think... destiny is just what happens to us. What else is there? If you make the wrong choice and it gets you off track from your so-called destiny, how are you supposed to know? Well, not you. You still have a child to go claim. But the rest of us, without the prophetic futures, the rest of us would never know. Even if destiny does exist in that sense, it doesn’t matter, because we’re all too small to have any idea.”

“Okay.” Geralt stared up at the ceiling for a moment, considering. “Then what I meant is... morning changes our destinies, Jaskier. As every morning does. Because there’s a thousand paths that can be taken from this morning and the next and the next and the next until one day, you die. And this morning is no different. We just have to choose.”

”Choose? Choose what?”

”That’s the thing about destiny. Isn’t this what you were saying? You don’t know what you’re choosing, because you don’t have all the options. And that’s just life. So-“ Geralt fixed Jaskier with his gold eyes, analyzing him. “-what do you choose, bard? What’s your destiny?” Jaskier turned his head up towards the ceiling and laughed, a warm, bright sound. “Why are you laughing?” Geralt asked, but he couldn’t keep himself from laughing. That was it about Jaskier. He was infectious.

”I’m laughing because...” Jaskier quieted, and he stared straight back at Geralt. “Because I choose you. You, Geralt, are the destiny I choose this morning.”

”Oh.” Geralt had to admit that he had not expected that. “H-“

”If you’re about to ‘hmm’ at me, don’t,” Jaskier warned, but he was grinning.

”Fine. I won’t.”

”How about you? What’s your destiny this morning?” Geralt laughed, a real laugh, for the first time in a long time. It seemed there were a lot of things he was doing for the first time in a long time now.

”Do you have to ask?”

”Of course I do. Who would I be without a million annoying questions?”

”A slightly better version of yourself.” Jaskier looked mock upset.

”Take that back.”

”Make me.” Jaskier shook his head and leaned over in one smooth motion to kiss Geralt.

”You didn’t answer my question,” he murmured, his lips still pressed against Geralt’s. “What is your destiny, Geralt?”

”I don’t know. But whatever it is, you’re going to be there with me, and you’re going to write a song about it, and then we’ll go to bed and the sun will come up and we’ll choose a new destiny.”

”Not me,” Jaskier said, breaking the kiss. His hand still rested on Geralt’s cheek. “I know what my destiny is, now and forever.” With that, he rolled off the bed and began collecting the rest of his clothes. Geralt did the same, until they were both finally fully dressed. “Geralt?”

”Hmm?” Geralt responded, strapping his armor on, his back turned to Jaskier.

”I love you.” He choked on his own breath for a moment.

”You do?” He asked, not quite prepared turn around and face that kind of declaration.

”No, I’ve followed you around for nearly two decades because I love getting ridiculed and getting paid shit playing in rowdy taverns every night- actually, that part’s kind of fun- but that’s not the point. The point is, I’ve loved you since I was 18 years old, and now that you know, we can get on with our lives.”

”I-“

”You don’t have to tell me you love me, Geralt.” Geralt felt the lightest touch on his shoulder. “I don’t expect that from you. Because for all your protests and all your insults, I know you’ll stand by me until you can no longer stand. That’s how you can tell me you love me.”

”You’re a strange man, Jaskier.” Geralt leaned back into the touch, and a small smile spread across his face.

”My real name is Julian, actually.” Geralt whipped around, eyes wild.

”It’s _what?”_

”Never mind. You can call me whatever you like, witcher.”

”So I shall, bard.”   
  


Under a sun-flooded sky, two men and a horse left town, off to find the next adventure. They walked side by side, in perfect step with one another. It seemed to any passerby that they were no more than a witcher and a bard, two relatively uninteresting faces in the crowd, but the truth is that they were so much more. They were two men that had finally discovered the true meaning of destiny: it’s not the things you’re meant to do. It’s the things you choose to do. And every morning, a new destiny awaits you with the rising of the sun.

Destiny isn’t in the stars, it’s in yourself.

Destiny isn’t fate.

Destiny is you.


End file.
